


Cold

by smolgrump



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Reader-Insert, sick reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-04 03:32:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10267085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smolgrump/pseuds/smolgrump
Summary: You've been stricken down with a cold and all its symptoms, thankfully theres a medic on site.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is 100% guilty pleasure and medic needs some more lovin! (this is my first story on here so im sorry if it sucks or medic is a lil ooc, ill try and keep him in character as best as i can)

It starts with a cough, a small tickle in the throat, nothing too worrisome if not a bit annoying. you hardly notice it's persistence until its gotten worse and the tickle feels more like you swallowed sandpaper. But you have a job to do, and it's not like you really need to communicate all that often with the rest of the red team...you'll just be even more quiet then usual.

Your code-name is Runner, you fetch supplies for the team and provide adequate shielding if it becomes necessary( more necessary for some then others). Silently peering out from behind a stack of crates you spot the Scout as he zooms by and throws a now empty can of BONK at the enemy heavy, it distracts him long enough for Scout to bludgeon the walking meat wall to death and send him back to re-spawn.A grin is etched onto energetic boys face '' AWE YEAH GET A LOAD A'THIS, you see that shit Runner?!" , he cheers excitedly eyes alight with mischief seeking the approval of his peer. You give a firm nod and smile at the Scout, proud of him " Good going man, now lets see you do that 20 more times and we can't lose" you struggled out, voice rasping at the end. His grin wavers and his eyes flash with a different emotion, concern maybe, before dismissing it and giving a hearty cheer as he dives back into battle.

You breathe a silent sigh of relief and rub your aching throat, speaking was a terrible idea but the scouts excitement was infectious. Hefting the Medi-pack into the satchel on your back you begin the journey to the signal of the order placement. A quick glance at your order screen says the pack is meant for the Spy, and regardless of your brief distraction;he's still alive. Pressing a button on the palm of your hand commands a shield to dispatch itself out of your bag and you lift it with your non-dominate arm. The shield itself resembles that of a riot shield complete with a Plexiglas mirror and when fully extended comfortably shields you and a teammate or two. The shield's lightweight but durable; words often used to describe the Sniper. Grinning at the thought of the kind Aussie your attention is refocused on the the empty alleyway before you. Peeking into the shadows you watch the Spy emerge smoke billowing from his mouth not at all unlike a dragon, or a train(he probably wouldn't approve of either analogy in all honesty).

"Denim", his french accented voice breaks the silence snapping you out of your musings. A glance at the right side of his suit reveals a gash (a gift from the blue sniper?) and you peek again at your order screen. Denim reads back at you in bright green letters on the black glass screen, your reply underneath it. You open your mouth only for a coughing spell to hit at full force, the spy watches wearily in anticipation for your response.

A deep breathe in '' Apricot'' you wheeze out finally and the spy relaxes, snuffing the cigarette (you know it's not for your benefit but you're thankful regardless to be spared of the smoke). He staggers to you, now lightly clutching his side. it's hard to tell the damage (with the whole low lighting and red suit thing) but you quickly grab the Medi-pack out from your bag and hand it to him. Upon opening the pack the spys' wounds are healed and his suit is tailored back to perfection. He sighs in bliss '' merci, mon amie, I appreciate it. But maybe you should have grabbed two, that cough sounds horrible." he finishes walking up and placing a friendly hand on your shoulder. ''but you're a smart girl, you've already tried haven't you?'' he interrupts another feeble attempt at speech.

He's right but you'd be _damned_ if you admitted it.

You straighten your back and clear your throat '' I must have swallowed some dust on my way over or something, I feel right as rain'' you finish with a grin, proud of how clear your voice came out. He stares at you, unconvinced; but gives a shrug of the shoulders '' If you say so mademoiselle, but if it persists do contact the Medic. What would we do without our Runner'' , he finishes with a chuckle and ruffles your hair before vanishing. Like an annoyed child you stick your tongue out at the spot he once occupied and continue on with the match.

You take a step and stumble, blood rushing to your head as you fall onto the desert ground. Crouched down on your hands and knees you slowly rise back up, wiping the dirt off on your pants and place a shaking hand on your forehead. Its hot. even for 'in the middle of the desert' kind of hot.

Wordlessly you strip of your jacket, and stare at your sweat stained shirt ' _how could i not have noticed this, adrenaline is one hell of a drug but damn...maybe its just really really hot today_.' that was a piss poor lie and you know it.

But the second you admit to being sick you'll really start to feel its effects ' _just until the match is over, we have a minute and we're all set. i don't even care if we win at this point_ ' you admit tiredly. You **swear** you can already feel the aches and pains of sickness but a beep from your order screen distracts you **[designation: Medic...Request:shield support].**

Just the man you were trying to avoid, he'd figure it out in a glance, next thing you know you're being operated on ; tonsils replaced with a pair most likely from baboon. You shiver at the thought of the freezing metal table and his sickening, ~~albeit sinfully handsome~~ , grin. Its not that you didn't **like**  the medic per say, you were just kinda sorta terrified of him? Well more so his profession. But you've come to fear the man who could drag the damned to the brink of death and back, regardless of team color. Doctors and hospitals have been a source of terror since you were small, the fear may be a bit irrational, but it kept you from getting sick.

You trudge slowly coughing as much as your body saw fit knowing you wouldn't be able to while you were there, nose dripping and eyes glossy you hear him before you see him. His laughter was loud and crazed but not at all unattractive, if you ignored the whole 'crazy doctor' thing of course. He stands tall(taller with your short stature) Medi-gun gripped firmly in his hands while he Ubercharges the heavy happily blasting away at the blue team

"FRAULEIN! come join us in our victory, I've hardly seen you on either point all day!" the Medic tuts while you recover from the shock of being addressed '' Battle is gut for you, fabulous stress reliever. Bring that shield over here and cover the rear ja?'' he finishes now looking at you. You nod mutely and duck your head, shuffling behind him and the now Uberless Heavy. The large man turns twords you"Little Runner require sandvich?'' , the concern in Heavys' voice is endearing and you smile and shake your head "Rounds almost over Heavy, and i'm fine anyway. It takes take more then these guys to do any real damage to me" your voice croaks painfully at the end and you curse, Heavy is facing you now; medic stares intently from the corner of his eye. ''just, uh, swallowed some dust. That or puberty's hit finally'' the joke isn't funny but you try anyway.

With some more reassurance that were fine heavy faces forward again...but the medics gaze burns into your skin hotter than the fever you concede to admitting that you have, not that _THEY_ need to know that anyway. The burning of his calculating eyes subside when the Administrators' dark voice is heard praising your teams success.

with a cheer from the **Red** team, groan from the **Blue** , each return to their respective bases.

You're quick to remove the heavier outer clothing and weaponry and deposit it within your locker at the base, a whistle catches your attention "You're lookin a lil drenched there roo, you alright?'' the sniper is standing to the right of your open locker and leans in for a whiff "Not piss but geeze roo what did you do, run a race against ya shadow?" he's leaning against the locker now, glasses on his head pushing his dark hair back.

You give a shrug and lightly pat his shoulder yawning for effect hoping the message of 'don't feel like talking im exhausted' got through because all you wanted to do was _leave_. He chuckled and went to mess with your sweat drenched hair, fingers lightly grazing your forehead-only to be placed more firmly onto the flushed skin. ''Runner you're burnin up, you sick or something?'' he spoke urgently, concern dripping from every truth revealing word. All eyes were on you, but you're fairly certain a pair of icy blue orbs have been searching for signs of sickness upon stepping into the locker room.

You begin to panic now, and attempt to deny it before Scout perks up "You didn't sound too good when yous saw me totally wreck that heavy'', Spy adds in seconds after "That coughing fit you had sounded horrible mon amie,even if dust had been the cause" he finishes with a drag of his cigarette pointedly blowing it away from you.

The voices of the team blur together as they discuss your condition, but grow silent as medic closes his locker with a prominent slam.

His shoes tap against the tiled floor; movements precise and purposeful. You watch with bated breath from the corner of your eye as he approaches. His red gloves tucked securely under his belt, strong hands clasped behind his back. He's in front of you now and a large bare hand moves from its position behind him, and meets the feverish skin of your forehead to assess your temperature.

He's close, way to close.

He smells like blood, antiseptic, and....cologne? You hear him speak but the cool hand on your head is all you can focus on before your legs give out on you. You brace for impact, only to be swept up and lifted into a pair of strong and warm arms. Blurry eyes meet intense blue through a pair of spectacles, the questioning look is the last thing you see before passing out.

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah,this is a thing. First time actually sitting down to write something and it's a reader insert. Please excuse any grammatical issues(if you want to point them out please don't be a meaner about it) and I hope you enjoyed, maybe even leave a comment if you'd like more! (Ill still keep writing because i need to get better but the positive vibes would be nice motivation and just sweet in general)


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